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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 8: Comfort of Home
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 14:00:09 +0000 UTCChapter 8: Comfort of Home
123 AC, Dragonstone
Rhaena couldn’t help but gulp, feeling like facing the Cannibal again would probably be easier than what was coming.
Rhaena walked alongside her saviour, feeling exhausted from her earlier adventure. The man hadn’t said a word beyond putting a cloak around her and having her follow him. In a few minutes, they found themselves in front of a manse, and the sight of it made her understand why her stepmother was both worried and interested about its construction.
Rhaena had imagined a small wooden home or a hut, not a large manse that looked like it was carved from the mountain itself. The cost, effort, and time needed to make something like this was immense, if they didn’t have magic of course.
Yes, it had been quite an easy conclusion to make, given what she had seen, and yet, she wasn’t scared. She didn’t know why. She had heard of small snippets of what sorcerers were capable of, back in Pentos. It didn’t sound that powerful, especially compared to a dragon, and yet there was always a cost somewhere, one that tended to be abominable.
Her father knew much more about the subject, which was probably why he had been so wary of Lord Harry. Speaking of her father, she couldn’t help but shiver at his likely reaction when he would see her, “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”
“Who is?” her saviour asked.
“My father. He always warned me not to try to claim a wild dragon. He’s going to take one look at my injuries, and he’ll ground me until I’m a woman grown.”
“What injuries?” the man replied with an amused tone.
She was about to give him an incredulous look, only to notice that her leg wasn’t hurting anymore. Even the cuts on her arms had disappeared completely. She took off her saviour’s coat, only to notice that even her clothes were fixed, somehow.
Rhaena stopped walking and stared at him. “You healed me.”
“I said I would, didn’t I? My wife was always the better healer. She has a natural disposition towards it, but I’m no slouch. Now, since you’re all healed up, why don’t you tell me what you were doing near a dragon this size without any protection?”
Rhaena looked down at the sand, “I just wanted a dragon. Everyone else has one, and father…”
She didn’t finish as the man knelt down and hugged her tightly, “Tell you what, I have a very special drink inside that’s perfect to deal with feelings like this. How about you give it a try?”
The young woman barely had time to register what he said before realising that they were standing in front of the entrance of the manse. She could swear that they were further away, a few minutes ago. She shook her head and decided to follow her saviour’s advice.
The doors opened on their own, and Rhaena did her best not to gasp at what was inside. It was luxurious, yet there not overly so. There was a warmth there that made the manse feel like a home, instead of a display of luxury. Rhaena barely had time to take it all in before she was guided to a room with a few couches, one of which was occupied by the Lady Daphne, who was reading a thick tome in her hands.
The golden-haired woman looked up and raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware that we were having guests, Harry.”
The man looked sheepish, a far cry from the powerful sorcerer who had fought a dragon just a few minutes prior. “You remember Rhaena, right? She was in a bit of trouble and had a bad day. Why don’t you stay with her a bit while I make her some hot chocolate?”
The woman’s eyes brightened and motioned to talk, only for the man to raise his hands in surrender, “Yes, I’ll make you a cup too.”
Lady Daphne’s eyes sparkled in excitement, and the man rolled his eyes and left the room. The golden-haired woman gave her a kind look, “I’m assuming that my husband understated how much trouble you were in. He wouldn’t have intervened if it weren’t something that could cause some lasting harm.”
Rhaena gave her an awkward smile, “I went to the Dragonmont to claim a dragon. I found one, but he really didn’t like me.”
“Ah, I can see that. For all his talk of neutrality and leaving things be, Harry always had a weak spot when it came to children. It’s why he gave you that bracelet after all.”
“The bracelet?” Rhaena asked, confused. She thought that her bracelet was barely more than an afterthought compared to everyone else’s gifts. Jace and Luke had gotten something that they had never heard of before, even Joffrey’s toy was new. Baela had gotten a weapon, and yet, Rhaena had gotten a plain piece of jewellery. She thought that it was a slight of some sort, a useless gift for a dragonless Targaryen. And yet, now that she looked back at it, there was some oddness in the stone, the way it heated up, the way there was something inside it, moving, “The stone. It’s magic, isn’t it?”
“A significant oversimplification, but an accurate conclusion, nonetheless. Harry and I found it in an ancient, abandoned shrine in Japan, dedicated to Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun. I was surprised to see something like this, if I was honest, a fragment of a realm of fire and light, a spark, really. It is not extremely powerful, but more than enough to be dangerous in the wrong hands. I didn’t know why he gave it to you, but I suppose that I can see it now.”
“Why did he give it to me?” Rhaena couldn’t help but ask.
“Because you were sad and quiet.”
“I don’t understand.”
The woman’s eyes softened, “You have been sad for a long time. Grief and longing fill you, and yet, you were quiet. Children cry and rage because they want attention, because they’re hurt or afraid. But when they’re silent in their pain, it’s because they can’t stop. Harry saw you, and saw a girl in pain that wouldn’t stop, and he decided to help, like the meddlesome man he pretends he isn’t.”
Rhaena wanted to rage, to protest, but small tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. She barely had time to wipe them before Lord Harry returned with three steaming cups filled with an odd brown drink.
He handed Rhaena one, who gave him an odd look. Did he expect her to drink this?
Lord Harry rolled his eyes, “It’s called a Hot Chocolate. It’s scientifically effective at making you feel better. Why don’t you have a sip and tell me what you think?”
Rhaena did just that and gasped at the rich flavour that she tasted, as well as the warmth coursing through her. Her host gave her a smug look, “I told you so. So, what were you talking about?”
“The priceless artefact of power that you gave a child,” his wife replied in a dry tone.
“We weren’t doing anything with it, and it’s practically harmless, especially in another universe. It just has some energy stored that I thought might help her a bit.”
The woman’s eyes widened, “Oh, so that’s why you gave it to her. That explains a lot.”
Rhaena had no idea what they were talking about, and motioned to speak, “I have a few questions.”
The man gave her a warm smile, “Of course, dear. What do you want to know?”
“Who are you, truly?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“I never lied, my dear,” Lord Harry replied, “We really are travellers, both of us are. We like to go see new places, discover new civilisations, maybe have a few adventures. We came to this place because it seemed interesting. We never encountered dragon riders before, and this place has a special place in history, I can tell. We built our little house, with a nice view of the beach, and geographically, it’s a nice, central place in the places we want to visit.”
“You scared off a dragon,” Rhaena replied with an incredulous tone, “travellers don’t just do that.”
“I suppose we’re not your average traveller. You’ve seen enough to make a conclusion, haven’t you?”
“Magic?” the young girl asked hesitatingly. But at her hosts’ nods, she continued enthusiastically, “I’ve never heard of magic like yours before. And isn’t magic supposed to be very dangerous?”
“Oh, it’s extremely dangerous,” the man replied kindly, “And it has killed many arrogant mages who thought themselves to be above the rules. And before you ask, magic isn’t something that can be taught, but something you are born with, much like being a Dragonrider.”
Rhaena couldn’t help but be filled with disappointment. She had planned on asking the man to teach her. For magic was obviously more powerful than a dragon. Lord Harry had showed that to her earlier.
But something niggled at her. Aegon Targaryen had conquered Westeros, not because it was his right, but because he was powerful enough to do it. A man who scared off dragons and summoned lightning from the sky had power akin to that of the gods. Wouldn’t it be his right to conquer them, as her ancestor had over a century ago?
She asked him just that, “If you have so much power, so much strength, then why aren’t you a king?”
Lord Harry knelt down and gave her a complicated look, as if seeing her for the first time, “Power is such a fickle thing, Rhaena. Men crave it, the influence, to be remembered in the annals of history, to carve a legend that would be sung for thousands of years. It’s something I dreamt of, once. But look at your father. Look at your stepmother, and tell me, are they happy?”
Rhaena remembered the constant frown on Rhaenyra’s face, the way her father’s eyes dimmed after her mother died, his constant rage at something that happened in King’s Landing or another. It was the first time that she realised that whatever moments of happiness they had were brief.
She shook her head, and Lord Harry smiled, “Long ago, circumstances forced us to fight a war, one unlike what you had ever seen. People chanted my name and would remember me as a hero, my feats would probably be known for thousands of years, and yet, it felt hollow, especially compared to a single evening with my wife. People often dedicate their lives to power, but it’s those who dedicate it to happiness, to joy, that truly live a full life. If there was one thing I could teach you from all of my experience, it would be that chasing happiness by pursuing power will likely never end well. Had you claimed that dragon tonight, do you think that anything would be different?”
“Yes. I won’t be dragonless anymore. I’ll be true Targaryen,” she protested.
“Perhaps, but I’m not talking about any dragon, but the Cannibal itself. The moment you tried to claim him, you weren’t thinking about your happiness but the power the beast would bring you. If you had returned riding this beast, perhaps your father would have paid more attention to you. Perhaps, you would get some attention, but it wouldn’t be you, would it? It would be the rider of the Cannibal that they would care about.”
Rhaena stiffened, tears growing in her eyes, “I just wanted them to care… I wanted to have a dragon too…”
Lord Harry held her tightly and spoke up, “And I suppose I do have to make up for that little fiasco, don’t I?”
“I don’t understand,” she muttered while sniffling.
“Well, I didn’t expect you to go confront a dragon of all things, right after giving you your bracelet. You would have likely been nothing more than a curiosity for most of them, but you met the one dragon that would crave what’s inside the stone.”
“The magic from that sun goddess?” Rhaena replied, vaguely remembering what Lady Daphne said about the stone.
“Not quite, but I suppose that’s accurate enough,” the man answered while laughing, “In a way, this stone could empower a dragon massively, but the Cannibal is not an ordinary dragon. I didn’t get the time to study it completely, but the beast was wrong, malformed. Perhaps it was an act of chance, or perhaps it was a ritual that had gone wrong, that used the egg somehow. The dragon is constantly leaking its own magic, its own power. Dragons absorb magic to grow, yet this one keeps releasing it. I don’t know if it’s instinct, but it found that eating dragons and their eggs could allow it to absorb its magic, and it has done that for years and years, living from one meal to another, hoping to survive by eating hatchlings and dragon eggs. Quite the sad and tormented creature, huh? What you have in your hand is something that could feed it for centuries, and it recognised what it was, and chased you down. In a way, I played a part in your misfortune, even if I had not intended it to happen.”
Rhaena glared at him and exclaimed without even thinking, “You almost got me killed!”
“If you hadn’t snuck out tonight, then it wouldn’t have happened either,” the man protested, “But I suppose I should make it up to you, don’t I?”
The young girl, who felt slightly embarrassed by her outburst, started to shake in excitement. Lord Harry chuckled, “Calm down, my dear. Let’s get you home first.”
“Gods, I’ll have to sneak back in,” she muttered, “The Cannibal would have made them more alert.”
The man was laughing at her panic. Before she could glare at him, she turned and found herself and Lord Harry standing in her room, back in Dragonstone. The man was still drinking that heavenly hot chocolate – she still had no idea what that was, but there had to be some magic involved in making it. He gave her an amused look as words failed to come out of her mouth, “I would very much prefer if you don’t mention our little adventure to anyone. I doubt most would believe it anyway, and the ones that do would hopefully be smart enough not to bother me. Then again, people can be so dumb sometimes. Now, it’s very late, and it’s time for you to go to sleep.”
Rhaena wanted to ask about the gift he promised to give her, but her eyes felt heavy all of a sudden. She felt so tired, and then everything went dark.
She woke up feeling extremely comfortable but also sore all over her body. She had a very strange dream, with Lord Harry being some sort of wizard who saved her from the Cannibal. That had to have been a dream, right?
She moved around in her bed and felt something warm near her, which confused her. Her first guess would have been that she had slept with her egg again. She used to do that every night, back when her mother was still alive. In Pentos, it was a ritual of some sort for her mother and her to imagine the egg hatching in her sleep, and describe what dragon could lay within until she fell asleep. She had stopped after they went to Dragonstone. The ritual felt empty without her mother.
Rhaena finally opened her eyes and sat up, only to freeze as she noticed the origin of the warmth. It was her egg, or at least, it used to be her egg. In its place were pieces of broken shell, and a white dragon hatchling took its place. The hatchling looked up, Rhaena having probably woken it up, and it stared at her, revealing the streaks of orange, yellow, and red around its body. It reminded her of fire and the sun, for some reason.
She blinked. It wasn’t a dream, was it?
The young girl looked at the bracelet in her hands. The gem looked much the same, but it felt empty. The small pulses of warmth she felt while holding it, the small imperceptible movement, were all gone. That was Lord Harry’s gift, the privilege of claiming a dragon of her own.
A wide smile grew on her face, and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing, softly at first, almost disbelieving, and then louder, as joy poured out of her like a dam breaking. She cradled the little hatchling in her arms, and it chirped at her sleepily, curling into her warmth. Her chest ached, and her cheeks were wet before she even realised she was crying.
Not because she was sad, but because for the first time in her life, she felt whole.
Her dragon. Her dragon.
She had a dragon now. She was a true Targaryen. She didn’t have to prove it to anyone.
The door to her room creaked open, revealing her sister giving her a worried look, “Rhaena, are you alright? You won’t believe what happened last night. The Cannibal…”
Baela froze as she saw the chirping dragon in her arms and the broken eggshell on her bed. “Your egg. It hatched.”
And just like that, her sister ran towards her and embraced her tightly, babbling with excitement, but Rhaena barely registered the words. She just held her tighter, burying her face in Baela’s shoulder as her dragon nestled into her lap.
“Thank you,” she whispered, not to her sister, but to the quiet morning, to the bracelet on her wrist, to the man who gave her more than she ever thought to ask.
She had been seen. She had been heard. And in the end, that was what mattered the most.
AN: So, Rhaena finally gets her dragon. The idea here was to show how much Harry changed over the years. He was a bit less serious than when he was younger, and a bit wiser. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
athass_prkr
I don't think I made Harry a Parselmouth in EM. It was a while ago, but I remember writing Parseltongue as a form of soul projection of intent that is targeted towards snakes, with the hissing being how it was being expressed and channelled in the world. Harry could copy it if it's done in front of him, but he doesn't really understand it, not like a proper speaker does. Either way, while communication with dragons is on the table, it that communication being through Parseltongue probably won't happen.
Garri Sarkisov
Well done. Harry showed wisdom here and was in teacher mode who cares
omiguh
Are you going to allow parseltounge to be able to speak with the dragons of Westeros? You mentioned in an earlier chapter that they may have a serpentine ancestor which could mean parseltounge could work? Or maybe it was just caraxes who has a serpentine ancestor? It might not be as fluent as normal parseltounge since they aren’t technically snakes anymore but it could be like speaking in old English or maybe an incredibly odd accent lol? There are some Scottish and Irish people with such rich accents that I swear they are talking in a different language lol
